


Human Shield

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Gore, Human shield, Hurt Sam Winchester, Necromancy, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Whump, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Undead, Whump, Whumptober 2019, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: Harper finds a way to get to Jack, and now, trapped, surrounded, Sam does his best to shield his son from her attacks.





	Human Shield

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 4 of Whumptober 2019.  
Prompt: human shield

It wasn’t every day that Sam had to save his son from getting killed by a necromancer, but he supposed it was part of the job.

Dean had told him about Harper and the letter that had eventually found Jack. While Sam did his best to talk to him about it, to get him to understand that what Harper felt for him wasn’t love and was instead a sick obsession, it was a difficult topic to bring up.

It’d been on Sam’s mind, but maybe not enough because with Jack’s insistence they ended up hunting down things that had come back from the dead. It was usual work for him, and Jack was excited about it, but the job had gotten more and more dangerous till they were holed up in a shed on the outskirts of town, the undead trying to get in and Harper’s voice coming through the door. Sam hadn’t even known she’d been the one responsible till minutes before.

“Come on, Jack. It’ll be fun,” she promised in a sing-song voice. “Just the two of us.”

“Yeah, but I don’t plan on dying,” Jack argued.

“Harper, enough!” Sam snarled.

He and Jack had silver knives on them, but there wouldn’t be a way out from this. He somehow had to talk her down, or find a way to kill her.

Wood broke, crumbling down on them, dust floating in the air, and Sam and Jack started at the hand now clawing through the roof of the shed.

The walls were shaking, scraping all around them.

“Oh, Sam. I almost forgot you were there. And, Jack, it’s just a little game, you see? You won’t feel a thing. I promise. And then you can have me.”

“I don’t want you,” his son asserted.

“What about love at first sight?”

“Harper, this is crazy!” Sam insisted. “Killing people, controlling them, that’s not love!”

Sam was trying to think of more to say when the door was broken through, and the undead tried to crawl their way in, rotting teeth ready to bite, and nails like claws. Jack tried to get in front to get a blow in, but on instinct Sam shoved him back, and he held his arms wide, hiding Jack from them.

That’s when their hands began to dig into his body, and Sam screamed, holding himself up by the rafters of the shed.

Couldn’t get to Jack.

They couldn’t get to Jack.

They tore through his jacket, his shirt, and through his jeans, and then his skin. And they began to bite at him, one gnawing on his shoulder blade, another at his hip.

Pain owned him, adrenaline fueling his brain, and he held his ground.

“Jack, the window!” he yelled. “Get out of here! _Agh!_”

A chunk of his calf had been torn off, and he fell to his knees, but he kept his arms spread out to protect his son.

One of them broke through, and Jack fought them off, blood flying in the air — his son’s blood.

More came at him, and Sam faltered back, body drawn taut.

“Jack, now!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

He’d dropped his knife, but had found a sledgehammer in the shed and was now smashing at the dead tearing through Sam. it didn’t kill them, but it slowed them down as bones cracked and skulls were smashed in.

Harper called a retreat, and Sam fell onto all fours, blood pouring from him, sweat coating his skin. Jack was by his side, pressing hands to his wounds, trying to hold him up.

“Sam, we have to go. Sam!”

The pain was too much, and he saw Harper step into the doorway.

“You can save him, Jack,” she said. “All I want is you. I can leave Sam alone if you come with me.”

“Jack, don’t do it,” Sam begged.

“Sam, quiet.”

He collapsed, barely able to hold himself up, but he tilted his head up at Harper and snarled, “He won’t love you, bitch.”

“No, but I can make him do things.”

She held out her hand.

“Jack, come on.”

“Sam lives?”

“Sam lives.”

God, he was going to lose his son. It didn’t matter that flesh had been torn from him, that he was most likely bleeding out, that torment bit down on his nerves and gnawed till he could barely think. He couldn’t lose Jack.

Jack held his hands up, stepping over Sam to Harper, and that’s when he saw the knife Harper held. It was tacky, a kitchen knife, but it was sharp enough to kill.

Without processing his agony or much of his movements he scrambled to get to Jack. Harper’s hand raised, Jack tilting his head back, offering up his throat. Sam threw himself in his son’s place, pushing Jack back till he fell.

“Sam!”

The blade slashed deep across his chest. He stumbled, blinded by the sharp suddenness of it all. Then a stab came at him as Harper realized her predicament. Too hurt to move, Sam could only watch as it went towards his chest.

It got him below the collarbone, making itself known as a deep, ruining pressure. Heat seeped around it. And Harper tried to pull back, but Sam growled at her, screamed through clenched teeth and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer.

With his free arm he grabbed her by the neck, grip as tight as he could make it, and she relinquished her hold on the knife. Trembling, nausea sloshing through his stomach, shock finally catching up to him, Sam pulled the knife free with a cry, and he stabbed her through the face with it, driving deep, breaking bone, blade going into her brain. She couldn’t even let out a choked scream.

It was done.

Sam dropped her and fell to the floor, and the undead around them all collapsed into piles of mush: decomposed organs, frail bones, and rot.

Jack rolled him onto his back, and his son’s face was all he could see. Throbs were taking over his body, till he could barely stand it, and blood came up in his mouth. He coughed on it, and it came out to paint his lips a garish crimson.

“Sam? Sam!”

Sam reached a hand up to his face, and assured him, “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

“No, no! Harper, she-she was going to let you go!” Jack screamed at him. “_She was going to let you go!_”

His hands pressed over the wound in his chest till pain beat through him in bright wails. It lessened his rate of blood loss, but Sam thought maybe this was it. His vision was tunneling, and he saw Jack’s tears, felt them drip down onto him.

“You’re safe,” he assured him. “It’s okay, kid.”

Sam drifted off into unconsciousness, torn apart body finding relief, and Jack held him tightly, like he was shielding him from death.

Somehow, in some impossible way, it must have worked, because hours later, in a hospital, Sam opened his eyes.


End file.
